Tuesday, June 27

Marlboro Man

Meet the Marlboro Man, aka Tony Bourdain. He doesn't have a cowboy hat and he's way cruder than the iconic billboard figure we're familiar with. But I bet that cowboy never really chain smoked those coffin nails, unapologetically, quite the way Bourdain does. I shouldn't be telling you this, but I smoked one of his Marlboros the other night. But first I stole it.

I don't know why I did this exactly. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. There he was, smoking away, out on the deck, surrounded by us all, chatting us up. He left his pack and went back in the house. Then I made my move. Before you could rasp cancerstick, I had one of his cigarettes lit and I was choking it down. For posterity? As blog fodder? I sure don't know.

Why, on earth, you ponder, was I in the same house as Tony Bourdain? Because the Seattle food world is a small one. I had been home all of 24 hours from my trip to Alaska, and I had volunteered to help out some friends who were cooking a Gypsy dinner, aka Seattle's underground restaurant, for Bourdain and his crew from his Travel channel show No Reservations. My sea legs were still wobbling as I assisted in preparing the meal. Ducking cameramen and videographers, the kitchen crew crafted course after course as the evening played out perfectly.

When asked by Bourdain why most of us volunteered our time, I - emboldened by my petty thievery - said, "what? I'm not getting paid for this?"

Above is the beautifully appointed table for 12 guests, every other person served a different 12 course menu. For you math majors, that is 24 courses of food.

Gabrial Claycamp (and son Rhone), the chef for this Gypsy meal and the co-owner (with wife Heidi) and chef at their cooking school Culinary Communion.

My buddy and pastry chef Dana Bickford, who crafted the incredible desserts for the meal.